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Colm May 2016
My shoes are empty, no rhythm or beat to fill the soles.
My energy tank is drained and dry,
And my crutch, my sugar, is attempting to consume me whole.

I push for something, try and try,
But designs escape me everytime.
As time reveals that I am tired, and tested by my own desire.

I beg for sleep to make me whole,
And yet I must and must persist.
To fight the battles new and old, and find my way throughout the mist.

I persevere and do persist to pull my art out of nothingness.
Until the sun on this day sets,
I will create until I rest.
The title is kinda ironic. Because it's often needed. :D

— The End —